Reports from Dartmoor
by rabidsamfan
Summary: From a prompt for the fic exchange for 2009 on Watson's Woes which asked for an AU version of Hound where Watson is caught on the moor in a storm and injured.


Author's Notes: Thanks to JaneTurenne and Surgical Steel for the betas, grammar and medical, respectively.

* * *

**Witness Statement Taken by P.C. Dennis this 20th day of October, 1887**

My name is Peter Cartwright. I'm fourteen years of age, and I live in London, near Regent Street, along with my mother and three sisters, all younger than me, my father having gone to sea as a whaler on the other side of the world two years past and not back yet. I work as a messenger boy at the district office there, under Hezekiah Wilson, who'll give you a reference for me, if you ask.

As for what happened the other night, which is what you want to hear about, I'd be starting in the middle if I didn't tell you that it all started back on the __th of October, in London. I was at my work, sorting out the papers Mr. Wilson wanted in order by date, when Mr. Holmes and Dr. Watson come in the door of the office. I knew them, already, because of Mr. Holmes helping Mr. Wilson figure out who'd been a-forging his signature on some documents last year, and as I'd helped some then, Mr. Holmes remembered me and asked for me special to run an errand. Looking for a cut up page of the Times, it was, at a string of hotels near Charing Cross, and he trusted me with near three pounds' worth of shillings to give the porters, too, though I didn't have to use all of it seeing as how at eight of the hotels the outside porter already knew what had become of the day before's trash and I didn't have to pay the hall porter, and at another three the boots knew where the trash was already and I didn't have to bother with porters at all.

Next day I took the leftover money back to Mr. Holmes and he asked if Mr. Wilson might be able to spare me for a few weeks, He offered double the pay because the job would be temporary-like, and might take me out of London for a while. Well, Mr. Wilson, he wouldn't have been able to hold the job for me, except it was for Mr. Holmes, and my mother she said yes too, and it was decided. I spent a few days watching Sir Henry in London, and then when he and Dr. Watson went out to Dartmoor I went ahead and made arrangements for lodgings for Mr. Holmes and me in Coombe Tracey at Mrs. Lethbridge's place. Which Mrs. Lethbridge? There's more than one? Oh. Well, the house is on the west end of the village, near the stream. Beckside, it's called. And we stayed there under the name of Saunders, father and son, because Mr. Holmes didn't wish to advertise his presence. Excepting he didn't stay there all the time, but holed up in a ruin of a hut on the moor most nights when the weather wasn't too bad, and I brought him news and food and the like and kept an eye on Dr. Watson for him by day.

Why? Acos he was worried about the doctor, that's why. And seeing as what happened, didn't he have a good reason? Anyway, Dr. Watson, he was meant to keep an eye on Sir Henry, but when Sir Henry was at the Hall there was times he went out on his own and that's when I was to follow him. It was boring, mostly, and cold, and I'd plenty of time to fetch the letters for Mr. Holmes when the doctor wasn't abroad. Some days he didn't hardly leave the Hall at all except to go mail his letter to Mr. Holmes, the weather being bad, or the fog too thick the way it was on the 16th.

Then the next day, when it all happened, the rain kept coming off and on, and thunder too, and he didn't step foot out the door until the light was going. In fact, I'd given up and started back to Coombe Tracey hoping to get there before another round of storm, and it was only because I happened to turn round for a moment that I saw him heading off toward the moor. I had to fair run to get back to where I could keep an eye on him. It weren't easy, neither, the ground being so wet that sometimes you put your foot down and it quaked like a jelly, and other places you couldn't hardly get your shoe out of the mud again. But Dr. Watson, he had something on his mind, because he made for this big hill with a jumble of rocks on the top a good way out on the moor and climbed up to the top of it.

I hid under a bush, so's he wouldn't see me. And I don't think he did, because it wasn't until the thunder started up again that he began to climb down. And then, all of a sudden, the whole hill he was on lit up with a lightning bolt and a thunderclap like the hand of God landing over your ear. Fair stunned me they did, and the light left me blinking away green fire in my eyes. It wasn't until I could see again that I realized that I couldn't see Dr. Watson moving anywhere on the hill.

I tell you true, I didn't want to go and find him fried like a sausage, but maybe he'd only been startled by the lightning as he climbed down and fell off the rocks and might need help if he hadn't broke his neck. Leastwise, that's what I says to myself to get my legs moving. And there was more lightning and thunder, and the rain was starting down, so it wasn't like I could go away and leave him there, not without at least trying to find him.

And I did find him, lying on the bracken and twitching like a horse beset with flies. There was blood in his ears, and his hands were cold and blue, but when I took hold of one of them he gave a great heave of breath and opened his eyes. I called his name three - four times, but he didn't answer me, just started trying to get up. He couldn't do it, though.

I'd seen Dr. Mortimer in his dogcart going out towards one of the farmhouses earlier, and it weren't like I could pick up Dr. Watson and take him to Dr. Mortimer, so I thought it would be best if I were to run for help. And that's what I did, only it took a while to find Dr. Mortimer, and by the time we got back to where I'd left Dr. Watson, he was gone.

---

**Excerpt from the testimony of James Mortimer, MRCS, given at the Coroner's Court 27th October 18__**

I'd spent several hours that afternoon at Foulmire, dealing with the elder Mr. ________, who isn't long for this world, poor fellow, and was driving home when I heard the lad shouting my name. As soon as he told me that there'd been a man struck by lightning but still alive, I turned the cart and tried to see how far I could bring it, knowing that we'd no doubt need it to bring the patient back to shelter.

We couldn't go as far as the Black Tor -- the track is very bad this time of year -- but I was able to bring us within a quarter mile of the place, having recognized it from young Cartwright's description. A very good description it was too, for someone who clearly hadn't grown up on the moor. By then, of course, he'd told me that it was Dr. Watson who'd been struck. I didn't think at the time to ask him how he knew both our names, but as his testimony has made that clear it's neither here nor there.

What matters, of course, is that by the time we reached the Black Tor, Dr. Watson was gone. The rain was easing off, but it was still nearly dark, and after a few futile forays around the tor I sent the boy to Baskerville Hall to fetch assistance whilst I went back to my cart for the lantern which I always carry in case I am obliged to travel at night.

It was some time before Sir Henry and Barrymore came to join me in my search. They'd brought horses, not for speed, but in case strength was needed to extract someone from a bog, which Barrymore suggested, I believe. Sir Henry explained that he'd sent the boy on to Coombe Tracey to alert the authorities, and his coachman Perkins to Merripit House to fetch help from the Stapletons.

Barrymore offered to take the rocky area off by Cleft Tor, saying he knew it better than Sir Henry or I. Sir Henry passed him a revolver then, and told him to fire it thrice into the air if he found Dr. Watson, so as to summon us. Barrymore hesitated, but Sir Henry showed us a second revolver, and assured us that he had many times used such a signal during his explorations of the wilds of Canada.

The three of us widened our search then, but the only trace we found of Dr. Watson was his hat.

---

**Sir Henry, in answer to questions from the press**

"I didn't know what to expect, but I knew that Dr. Watson hadn't planned to be gone much past dark. I had already begun to fret when the boy turned up on the doorstep."

"Have you never heard tell what happens to a man that's been thunderstruck like that? I knew of a fellow in Calgary, pushed a broom in the General Store and never said a word, and he'd had his own business once, selling supplies to the miners. His son had to take over, and it was all because he'd been hit by a lightning bolt and then lost for three days. I wasn't about to let the doctor be lost that long, not with the Mire so close."

"Of course I took the guns along. Searching at night, in a place like Dartmoor? I'm not too proud to admit that I had the family legend in the back of my mind when we went out that night, either. And it's just as well, isn't it?"

---

**Eliza Barrymore, in a letter to her second cousin Harry Selden aboard the ship _Makepeace_**

_You can rest easy, I suppose, now that Will has been taken back to Princeton, and you need not help me fetch him away from England. Believe me I know how little joy you took in helping him, for it has been hard to bear for me, having him so close by and wanting his freedom more than anything. Prison was never crueller to a man than Will, and so you'd say too if you could have seen his ribs showing and his broken teeth._

_But I must tell you that perhaps he has a chance at redemption in a higher court, for when he saw a poor injured man staggering on the moor in the rain, Will did him no harm, but took him to the dryest place he knew -- a crevice down among the rocks where he has been hiding. Dr. Watson had been lightning-struck, and he was deaf from it, and badly confused, not to mention soaked to the bone. And if Will did strip him of his things, it was only to put some clothes of Sir Henry's which we had given him on instead. The constables would have it that Will planned to steal Dr. Watson's money and watch, and it's true that Will had those things in his pockets when he was caught trying to break into the Hall, but I believe him when he says he was going to give them over to me and tell me where to send the searchers to find the doctor. Why else would he come back when he had already got his best chance to run away?_

---

**Extract from the Diary of Mr. Frankland, of Lafter Hall**

_Just before nightfall a thunderstorm went through, and after it had passed I went up to the roof to make sure that my telescope had taken no damage. While I was there I observed a light near Black Tor, and I bent to the glass, but could make out very little. Shortly thereafter, however, the one light was joined by two, coming from Baskerville Hall, and a boy rode off on a pony in the direction of Grimpen while another rider made for Merripit House._

_By full dark I had had no news, so when I saw a wagonful coming from the village I went out to flag it down. Nearly every able-bodied man and half the boys had climbed aboard, and they were quick to ask me to join them, as Dr. Watson was lost on the moor, and lightning-struck at that. PC Wethers was going to Baskerville Hall, to coordinate the searchers, and word had been sent to Fernworthy and Coombe Tracey as well._

_Naturally I reminded them of the danger of the convict on the moor, and informed them that I had seen a messenger taking him food. This was met with disbelief on some parts, but not all. Nevertheless, I was requested to join the search, so as to point out precisely where I thought I had seen the lights earlier. Had my rheumatism allowed, I might have complied, if only to prove to the skeptics among them that I knew of what I spoke. As it was, I declined, but offered the use of my home for any of the searchers to come and dry off and partake of some refreshment should their services be required for more than a few hours._

_Once they'd gone, I set some water on the stove and fired it up, and considered the pantry. Came across the old storm lantern there and realized that it would make an excellent beacon if hung up near my telescope. I filled it and took it upstairs, and was having a good deal of difficulty positioning it when I noticed a tall man passing by on the road below. I shouted at him to come up and give me a hand, and he did._

_He introduced himself as William Saunders, but when I explained the reason I was placing the lantern he paled and began to fire off questions... _

---

**Mr. Sherlock Holmes, overheard in hospital**

"When Frankland explained what he knew I understood at once why I had not met with Cartwright enroute to Coombe Tracey, but I couldn't for the life of me think of what might have driven you out to the moor. I needed data, and my first thought was the telescope at my elbow. With it I was able to ascertain the extent of the search so far -- it was clear from the pattern of lanterns that they hadn't found you, yet -- and when I turned it upon Baskerville Hall, I saw for a moment a figure approaching the grounds, moving in a hesitant way which might either have signified caution or injury. I abandoned the roof of Lafter Hall to the sound of Frankland's remonstrations and ran as fast as I could to investigate.

"On the way I encountered the party of men coming from Fernworthy, and it was agreed that the constable should come with me to the Hall, so that if it turned out that the man I'd seen was you, he could bring word back to the moor. You can imagine my dismay when it turned out to be Selden instead. I can't say which alarmed me more: his description of your condition, or the news that he had dressed you in Sir Henry's castoffs. Taken in combination with the news that word had been sent to Merripit house and that Sir Henry was out wandering the moor in search of you, you can imagine my dismay.

"Perhaps not. When you're properly awake I'll explain to you just what I'd learned about Stapleton and his wife. I had the proof of it in my pocket, just arrived in that day's mail. Leave it to suffice that I had every reason to believe that Stapleton was behind the mystery, and that he possessed a physical hound of some kind which would track its victim by scent. By _scent_, Watson. And you were out there wearing the clothing of its intended victim!

"Conveying the danger to the constable proved impossible. I left him in charge of Selden and went out to the moor as fast as I dared go. The rain had passed on, and the clouds were beginning to break apart, but while the moon lay still behind the curtain the light was very bad and the path treacherous. I had no more than reached the base of the rocks where Selden claimed to have left you than there came the bay of the hound across the darkness. Much closer than usual.

"I knew the howling of the hound from my nightly sojourns upon the moor, but most of the fellows searching for you knew it only by rumor, and had it not been so desperate a night I should have found it amusing to see how quickly they all clustered into groups to chatter about what they'd heard. I could hear Sir Henry's voice above the rest, arguing for the search to go on. You've made a friend in him, Watson, and a loyal one. I should like to hear the story of how someday, if...

"When. When you're better. According to Dr. Mortimer's books, your current state is a temporary one. It might not last a week, although you mustn't become discouraged if it lasts longer. There's an example of a woman struck by lightning in Yorkshire, in 1797. She couldn't speak or remember anything for nearly a year, and yet she made a full recovery, married and had nineteen children. Not that I expect you to attempt to match her in that arena.

"Wait. What do you ... water? Yes, this is water. Are you thirsty? Here. No, let me hold the cup. There you go, old fellow. Enough? Yes, I can see that it is. Lay back, now and rest. Would you like to sleep, or hear more of the story? More? Well, if you insist. You never have been one to resist a good story.

"Naturally, when I knew that Sir Henry was within earshot, I thought it best to warn him of the danger in which he stood. I made for the sound of his voice, and had just topped the rise when I saw the bobbing glow of a will-o-the-wisp in the direction of the Mire.

"I swear to you, Watson, that I made nothing of it at the time. Indeed, if it were not for subsequent events I should have forgotten the matter entirely. A moment later, the clouds finally parted and the moonlight spilled across the landscape before me. I could see the clumps of men with their lanterns, and I could see one more man -- you, my friend -- staggering blindly in the direction of Sir Henry, and the gleam of a bog between you.

"I assume you heard him, however dimly, and turned toward his voice, just as I had, although I might be in error. You didn't react to my shouting your name, but kept plodding forward. I called to Sir Henry and the others, pointing in your direction and warning them about the bog, but then had to save my breath for running, and my eyes for finding a safe path.

"Sir Henry, from his lower vantage, made a slower start. Still, he and Dr. Mortimer had found a way around the bog before me. They weren't a dozen yards from you when the howl of the Hound rose again, and it came running out from the shadows, all aglow with phosphorous. It looked like a very demon from Hell, Watson. Nothing I had considered prepared me for that.

Of course, Sir Henry saw it, and froze, as did every other man within view. I nearly did myself. It was only the certainty that it _must_ be a living creature that gave me the strength to go on running. I had my revolver in my pocket, but I didn't have a clear shot. I pulled it out and fired into the air, hoping to discourage the creature that way. It hesitated, and then came forward again, but by then you had noticed it. I saw you step into its path, Watson. Do you remember doing that? No? Well, you did, and between the clothes you wore and Sir Henry's own scent not far off it paused again. I think you confused it.

But that gave Sir Henry a chance to recover. He drew a gun and ran to you, firing as he ran. He saved your life, I think. It wouldn't have hesitated much longer. But when a bullet touched it, it turned and ran itself right into the bog. By the time I reached you both it was sinking, and it was a mercy to put a bullet into its head. I managed to reach it with a stick, and got a sample of the phosphorous coating which had been smeared over its hide. Useful, because when Stapleton turned up, pretending concern, I was able to prove his complicity by pulling the handkerchief from his pocket and showing the phosphorous stains upon it.

"I should have paid Stapleton better mind, I suppose, but I wanted to see what Dr. Mortimer was making of your injuries, and I thought the men from Grimpen had a good hold of him. He broke free, though, and grabbed my revolver -- used it to hold everyone at bay as he backed away. He tried to take a shot at Sir Henry before he finally ran for it, but fortunately Sir Henry was expecting that and fired first. Stapleton was hit, and he ran for it. They went back the next morning and followed his trail to his body. Turns out he was a Baskerville, and would have been the next heir, if only he could send Sir Henry the same way as Sir Charles. As it is, the coroner's court has accepted that he brought himself to ruin, between my testimony and that of the two ladies he so misused.

"And that's the whole of it, except for waiting for you to recover. I've got your diary here, and your last report has come back from London, so I know _now_ why you went out there. The blame for that falls squarely upon my own head. Had you known I was in the vicinity, you would have identified the silhouette upon the tor without venturing into a stormy evening, and for that I owe you a thousand apologies. Better I should have risked the case entire than bring you to harm through ignorance of my plans.

"Ah. That's better. I can see you've remembered my bad habits. Well, I promise to do better, in future, if you'll do me the honor of continuing to aid me in my work. You will? Good fellow.

"Mrs. Hudson sends her regards, and wants to know when we'll be coming home. Dr. Mortimer assures me you should be able to travel soon. Sir Henry has offered to hire a private car. We can be home by Guy Fawkes' Night, if you like. I hear that the Des Reszkes are bringing _Les Huguenots_ to London soon. Something to look forward to. I'll even treat you to dinner at Marcini's along the way."


End file.
